


Trying to Hide the Feeling that I’m Never Leaving Home (or Olive Garden)

by ultravioletsunsetz



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Olive Garden frank, Workplace AU, aka rescue frank from his sad and depressing life, inspired by mcr twitter, not exactly a au, there is going to be a lot of breadsticks and pasta in this fic, this started as a joke but it will have a plot once its done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23507527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultravioletsunsetz/pseuds/ultravioletsunsetz
Summary: Frank starts a job at Olive Garden. Shenanigans follow. Frank thinks that he is doomed to a 9 to 5 life, but he actually just has a lot of wasted potential that he needs to do something with.  Updating every couple weeks most likely.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Kudos: 11





	Trying to Hide the Feeling that I’m Never Leaving Home (or Olive Garden)

**Author's Note:**

> There are 22 Olive Garden locations in New Jersey but the closest one to Kearney is a 25 minute drive away so for this story, I’ve relocated one of those Olive Gardens to be closer to Kearney. I’ve also never been to NJ so please keep that in mind. 
> 
> This will most likely have between 10-15 chapters. 
> 
> I have never worked in food service of any sort so I am trying to do research but am also just making it up to a certain degree. 
> 
> The first chapter is the shortest by far. They will get progressively longer.

Working a deadbeat job at Olive Garden (that symbol of middle class, settling to mediocrity, and a far cry from genuine Italian cuisine) was the last thing that Frank Iero thought he would be doing at age 23. 

He used to dream of getting out of Kearny, NJ, of doing something with his life, of escaping the monotony of the working class that everyone around him seemed to get stuck in. He spent his teen years escaping to the city on the weekend, hitting up punk shows and sneaking to parties, enamored with the lights and action and energy of it all. He used to fantasize at shows that someday it would be him onstage, that he would be playing guitar to a bunch of screaming kids. He got his first guitar at age 11 and a plethora of shitty bands with friends followed, cementing his love of playing guitar and going to see other bands play. He still goes to shows, but maybe he doesn’t let himself dream like he once did. 

Olive Garden was a far cry from his dreams. And the problem with Olive Garden too, was that it was, like, the exact opposite of the tiny, all hours of the night open, vaguely Italian diners that Frank had grown up frequenting. There was nothing down-to-earth about a restaurant chain frequented by middle class people trying to be “fancy” and the elderly. He worried that he would get stuck working a 9 to 5 job for the rest of his life and he would never do anything meaningful. 

Well, he thought, maybe he deserved it, but a college drop out should be able to do something meaningful with their life. When he was still at college, he used to think that he’d end up teaching English or something, ended up dropping out because he got involved in a band- he thought that Pencey Prep had the potential to make it, and faced crushing disappointment when it ended up not working out. His parents had wanted him to go back to school, but he had never enjoyed it much to begin with, and didn’t want to go into debt without knowing for sure what he wanted to do. He had lived at home while going to school, so it was easy for him to just quit going to school and still live at home- thankful he hadn’t rented an apartment closer to campus like many of his friends did.  
He still played guitar in his free time, but he was kidding himself if he thought he could earn a steady income from it. And he needed cigs and gas money- and really, it was getting ridiculous, being 23 and not having a job. 

His friend Ray was always urging him to try to teach music lessons, “Iero, seriously, those kids can hardly play a cord- much less anything more complex- it would be easy for you to teach them” 

Which yeah, might work, if Frank felt comfortable getting overpaid simply to teach beginner guitar to rich kids-but he didn’t particularly want to spend time teaching bratty children who would probably grow up to be the type of people who would’ve shoved him in a locker in high school. Ray was much better at bullshitting his way through those types of situations- and he was pursuing a degree in teaching music, so parents thought he was some sort of guitar god. 

Frank found himself, on a Tuesday morning, dressed in a plain, dark colored crewneck, light wash jeans, and his beat-up old chucks, standing in front of an Olive Garden. He had made sure to take out his lip ring and nose piercing, knowing that he should try to put in a good impression even if he was just here to pick up an application.  
He glanced at the fake “tuscan” ambiance of the building, and grimaced. Through the windows, he could see a selection of elderly people and middle aged women- a typical crowd, he guessed. He had been surprised at how busy it seemed here, and it wasn’t even 12pm yet- the parking lot had been almost full and it had been a hassle to find parking. 

He decided to focus on his reason for being there, which was to pick up an application.  
Frank walked past the fake “Italian” trees flanking the sidewalk and pushed the door open. Immediately he was struck with the smell of garlic and pasta, carb-laden scents wafting from the kitchen, and the cacophony of several conversations occurring around the room. 

“-Name please? Do you have a reservation?”  
Frank hadn’t noticed the hostess standing practically in front of him, he had expected a line to be formed from how busy the parking lot was. 

“Uh, Frank, but I’m just here to pick up an application. I saw that you were hiring? Apparently? I’m here to see if there are any jobs available” 

The hostess- “AGATHA-assistant-manager” according to the name tag pinned to her black polo, nodded. 

“Yes, we are currently hiring. I have a copy of the paperwork and application with me, as luck would have it.”

Agatha bent down and reached for something in the podium she was standing behind. Standing back up, she had a couple pieces of paper and a pen in her hand. 

“Here you go! You could fill this out now if you want, here’s a pen” 

“-Oh, ok. Thank you” 

Frank decided to take her suggestion and sat down in one of the empty chairs near the door. He noticed a couple of the waiters taking food to tables, they were wearing black button downs and black pants. Well, that was a plus- if he did end up being a waiter, he would rather wear an all black uniform than something ugly (he had flashbacks to his 5 month stint at Target and khaki pants) 

He proceeded to fill out the application, which was pretty similar to all other job applications he had filled out over the years.  
15 minutes later, he returned the pen and the paperwork to Agatha (“Thanks, Frank. If your application is successful you’ll get a call in a week to set up an interview!”) 

Frank drove home while blasting The Bouncing Souls, and thinking of how he should apply to other places- while at the same time thinking of reasons why he shouldn’t apply to other places.  
“Going to the same old places, skipping like a broken record, I love you all but I gotta get out and change this scenery. I've got to find What I'm living for, I've got to change this life that I'm living” 

He tried to ignore the nagging thought that he needed to change his life in a more drastic way than simply getting a job at Olive Garden.


End file.
